If I were Monet in April, what would I paint today?
Would it be an apple or does it really matter?
If I were Renoir in April what would I paint today?
A lady in pink, oh so that’s what I think.
If I were Cezanne in spring, what would my painting bring?
Colors so soft and sweet reflecting the eyes that they meet.
If I were Manet in May, what would I paint today?
Fields of flowers gay or a weather study of the day.
For the love of the palette said revolts in their heads,
Struggling with the next exhibition was in the tradition.
The francs are few and no bread to chew.
If I was sitting on the Seine, what would be my thoughts today?
Of blue, yellow, or red instead
No, just the little boat ahead.
Drifting in a dream, is life what it seems?
And if I were Gaugin what would I paint today?
A cow, a sheep or the people so petite.
Maybe the cliffs or flowers so sweet.
And if I were Basille in June, what would I paint today?
Myself I say, that’s okay.
And if the ocean roars with a sea breeze
How can I feel it, even breathe it?
If I were Courbet in June, I would paint the coast in bloom
And have a toast to Normandy, oh beautiful Brittany!
The artists reflect thoughts through their brushes
As ships fade, color gushes.
Changes in light temper all matter
Reflections and shadows are all captured together.
Through our feelings we express brush strokes of happiness, sadness.
Changes in all our moods even though the francs are too few.
And there is no bread to chew.
If I were Pisarro in September, what would I paint today?
A memory in Pontoise in green or just a tree.
But now the wine is drunk and the thoughts remain
In a café or in Zola’s name.
As the years have passed and the days are gone
I sit by the Seine, just the same and wonder.
Even though the francs are few and there is no bread to chew.